The First Kiss
by paperspiral
Summary: Sabretooth/OC. The story of how Creed and Emma first met.  While my Victor/Emma stories don't proceed on a timeline, if you want to read them in written order this is story 4.
1. Chapter 1

**Sabretooth belongs to Marvel, all others are of my own creation.**

Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.

Creed wasn't much for town life and kept mostly to his cabin on the outskirts of the quickly growing village. Unfortunately some things couldn't be avoided. He walked down Main Street, remembering when it actually was the only street in town. The general store was nearly obsolete next to the new grocer, pharmacy, and café. His saloon was now just a bar, and he had heard rumour that a store was setting up shop to sell appliances shortly.

He opened the door to the general store and a bell chimed happily over his head as he entered. Nick, the owner, a stout, wide man with a great bushy mustache and few words nodded to him and said 'good day Mister Creed'. They knew him, how could they not know him. He had lived in that same cabin for ten years now and every month or so, he would have to come down and interact with the people who grew up in Bashaw, Alberta.

He moved through the isles of the shop, skimming his eyes over the products that were unfamiliar to him, not finding what he wanted.

"What can I do fer ya t'day, sir?" Nick had enough sense in his head to treat Creed with an ounce of respect after his daughter had gone missing two years back. It was Creed who had found her out asleep in the orchard during the search party.

"Socks." He grunted in response, still looking about.

"Well we don't carry those, they're special order items. There's a girl in town who will make you a pair though. Girl, lady, whatever." The owner grabbed a scrap of paper by the register and scribbled down a name and an address then handed him the slip. "She don't got much work right now, bein' new and all."

Creed took the scrap from him and looked at it, rubbing his thumb over the writing, unable to make heads or tails of it. Nick watched him.

"It's down to the pharmacy an' turn right, " Nick pointed to Creed's right hand, "an' all th' way down th' street. She's stayin' in the hotel there. Ask fer a Ms. Rose."

He nodded but didn't say thank you. The bell tinkled on the way out and he had to squint against the sun. Streets were busier than they used to be. Creed inhaled then raised his chin up and began to stride down the sidewalk with Nick's directions in mind, hiding his uncertainty that he would find where he was going.

The hotel was new, he had noticed the construction last month, but now it was up and running. The woman at the counter was dressed in a long draped dress, much more elegant than this town was worth. She eyed him with a sour face, looking at his dirt covered boots and threadbare coat.

"What can I do for you, _sir_?" She asked, clearly not wanting to be helpful at all.

"Ms. Rose." His lip curled baring his fangs.

"Girl's no good. Already got miscreants dirtyin' up my hotel…" Only he could pick up on her muttering while she checked the room number on her boarder. "She's up in 3. Do us a favour, take off those boots before you go tromping upstairs?"

Creed went to take a seat to unlace his boots but the woman made shooing noises at him so he tried to balance himself while removing his footwear. He dropped them on the marble counter right in front of her with a smirk then ascended the stairs to find this trouble-making Ms. Rose.

He knocked on three and waited. He could hear shuffling and then the knob turned and a young woman with green eyes looked up at him through the crack. She had black hair pulled into a loose bun and was wearing a working dress and apron.

"Yes?" He could see fear sparking behind her eyes as they looked up at him.

"You Ms. Rose?" Creed took a step back and she opened the door wider so he could see the rest of her.

"That's me." She flattened her apron down and tried to pull the wrinkles out of her dress then looked back up at him with a small smile.

"I hear you make socks." They both looked down at the ones he was wearing currently, his clawed toes stuck through a few holes and his heels were completely worn through. He wiggled his toes then curled them up, trying to hide the claws. Ms. Rose didn't seem to notice them at all.

"I do. Would you like to come in?" Her voice was soft and sweet, much like her youth. Creed frowned and peeked inside.

"What for? That ain't proper." What was proper and what wasn't didn't really concern him much, he just didn't feel comfortable in the presence of other people, least of all a bonnie little thing like this girl.

"I need to measure your feet." They stared at each other for a heartbeat until Creed grunted and bent low to clear the doorframe, entering her room. Ms. Rose pointed to a wooden chest at the end of her bed and asked him to sit. The room was remiss of any signs that she had been living there for over a week save for her trunk. She kept everything tucked away, like at any moment she may have to flee in the night.

Creed obliged slowly, uncertain what he was doing in her company. She smelled feminine and delicate, not the sort of woman he was used to. She smiled apologetically as she kneeled awkwardly in front of him and pulled out a tape measure.

Despite his appearance, he tried to keep as clean as possible, whenever possible. Growing up in your own filth tended to do that to a person. His current socks, though worn through, had been washed the day before, and he had splashed around in the river that morning catching fish.

Ms. Rose measured once, twice, then picked up his foot by the big toe, minding the claws that protruded without batting an eyelash, and measured again. She was mumbling to herself and making marks on the measuring tape with a bit of pencil. She repeated this all on his other foot. They were both quiet while she did some simple math in her head and on fingers.

"It will be two dollars, does that sound fair?" She asked while still sitting in front of him on the floor. Creed could smell that she was anxious, and because it was only beginning now, he could tell it was because of her price.

"Too much." He grunted but waited for her to adjust the price instead of leaving, he really needed new socks.

"One seventy five?" Ms. Rose nibbled her bottom lip, her nervousness rose, not wanting to lose the sale. He caught himself staring at her mouth before coming back to his senses.

"Better."

She smiled in relief and reached up her hand while bunching her skirts, out of fluster, Creed took her hand and helped her up off the floor though he remained sitting on her trunk.

"Lovely." She breathed, still beaming. "You can pay me when I'm finished."

The door to the bedroom had slowly swung closed of its own accord during their conversation but suddenly burst open with an angry woman glaring at them both.

"Oh no you don't! What do you think I'm runnin' here? A whorehouse? Get out! Get OUT!" The mistress from downstairs had been snooping and caught them both in the bedroom, though innocent enough the transaction. "Miss Rose, I mean you too – you ain't stayin' in my hotel any longer! No good, trouble-makin' harlot!"

In a flurry of shrieks and flailing arms, Creed found himself standing in the street with his boots in hand and a young miss in shock standing beside him next to a wooden trunk and an unwound tape measure falling from her fingers.

"What just happened?" Ms. Rose looked at him in a way that made him sad. Her eyes were wide in shock and they were glassing over with tears.

"You still gonna be able t'make me socks?" He grunted, a bit mentally disheveled himself from the flurry of being kicked out that couldn't have taken more than five minutes.

"Where am I going to live? I have no home." She was staring straight ahead and seeing nothing but panic.

"Lady, I really need some new socks."

"I don't think you understand my problem, I have no where to live." She sank onto her trunk as reality hit her. She started sniffling and then softly cried into her hands. Creed stood next to her uncomfortably.

He was not a gentleman in any respect, and had little use for a crying woman, or women in general to be blunt, but he really needed new socks and being unaware of any other option, it led him to then say, "I….got a cabin 'bout three miles out. Might have room fer you."

She looked at him horrified. "That's ridiculous! My reputation would be ruined, I wouldn't get work anywhere!" Immediately, Ms. Rose bit down on her tongue, seeing vehement anger cross his face at her reaction.

Creed frowned hard, feeling the sting of rejection, then swiftly turned on his heel and stalked off back home, leaving her to sit pathetically in the street by herself. She tried a few times to call after him to apologize, but he was lost down the street in the blink of an eye.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sabretooth belongs to Marvel, all others are of my own creation.**

Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.

The rain had started some time in the night and had no intention of letting up. Creed loved this kind of weather and it perfectly suited his depressed mood. Any fancy he might have had in the back of his thick head that a nice girl might find him to be a suitable mate had been crushed under the boot heel of Ms. Rose yesterday afternoon.

While neither marriage nor mating had even remotely been offered to her, the look of horror, and what Creed saw as disgust, in the young woman's face confirmed what he already knew about himself. His father had been right, he was an animal worth nothing more than a beating.

Currently he was sitting out on his porch, whittling a chunk of wood into a bowl, but with his thoughts so angering and his hate growing inside him it cause him to push too hard and split the wood into two pieces. He let out a roar and threw the pieces into the woods away from him.

His chest hurt, as it did sometimes when he thought these things. His throat constricted in a vice-like grip. As a child he would cry and the pain would subside, but he was a man now. Creed waited a moment until he could swallow again, then walked off the porch, grabbing the axe leaning up against the door on the way to the tree stump out in his side yard.

Splitting wood in the rain helped him work out his painful feelings. Feelings he had no use for and didn't know how to deal with. He wished for another bullet to the shoulder like last spring, if only to take his mind away.

His last log gave a fight and bounced away from the axe and landed squarely on his bare foot. Creed gave a yelp and grabbed his foot to apply pressure. It had worked, his mind was a blank slate again.

Through the hard rainfall, he heard a horse and cart in the far distance. There was a road about a quarter of a mile from his place that led to a few farms farther out so it was rare to hear traffic. After a few moments a new sound broke through, a heavy, dragging sound not that far away from him. The trees were very good cover and he couldn't identify the source yet, but the noise was so slow moving that it didn't concern him much except for whomever was coming up the path to his home.

The smell, on the other hand, did alarm him.

Finally through the rain he saw her. Ms. Rose, dragging her wooden trunk painfully slow through the mud, making her way to his house. Creed's eyes glinted angrily and he stopped what he was doing. She looked like a drown rat. Frowning hard, he marched toward her, stopping only a foot from her, making her halt abruptly and slide a bit in the mud.

"Ah, hello there. We were never formally introduced. They tell me your name is Mr. Creed?" She stopped, the rain suddenly coming down harder and if it wasn't for his hearing, he may not have heard her properly. She hesitated then stuck her hand out to shake his. Creed did not take it.

He growled.

"Yes, well – I'm Ms. Rose." She took her hand back and paused. "It's raining rather hard."

Creed gathered that she was waiting for an invitation inside but he had no intention of providing one after the day before.

"What're ya doin' on my property?"

"Seems Mrs. Bateman is the town gossip. Any reputation I thought I might have has suddenly disappeared. The church let me stay the night there but it was clear that I had to make my own way. I was wondering if your invitation was still available? To stay in the cabin?" She tried to smile but his hard scowl was intimidating. "I can pay for board by making you those socks. I can cook a little and clean." His continued silence was unnerving in addition to the pure hate she saw on his face from yesterday. "Could you please say something?"

"Get OUT!" It came out as a half-howl, half-roar, terrifying her enough to have her fall back onto the ground and cover her dress in mud. She scrambled away from him back the way she had come, down the winding path, leaving her trunk in the rain.

Creed breathed in and snorted, his teeth clenched and heart beating hard in his chest. He stalked off into the woods in the opposite direction she had taken, ripping at brush and branches in his way.

How dare she, how dare she! She seemed completely oblivious to how much she had hurt him with one look, and then she had the audacity to show up unannounced on his property, at his _home,_ to ask for a favour. The bitch!

Creed had made it to the overhang a fair distance from his property, and sat, mentally spent, with his legs hanging over the edge, watching the river twist and twine through the shallow canyon below. There were deer taking a long drink by the far bank. In a few weeks he would begin to hunt them to stock up for the winter. His mouth watered.

His mother's whining, doubtful voice peeped into his ear. "Maybe you're wrong?" _Wrong about what, ma?_ He growled to himself. That shut her up. Then the realization of her words came to light. Ms. Rose had been nervous about approaching him, but she certainly wasn't repulsed. His father had won again, long after Creed had ripped his throat out. The man and his daily sermons about his son's wickedness would continue to haunt Creed and colour all of his actions in life.

ooooooo

It took a while, but the rain began to subside and Creed began to make the slow trek back to his cabin. He had needed a nap under a willow tree to banish his parents from his thoughts. He was groggy, still feeling as though he was dreaming, dragging his feet through the fallen leaves and making a racket.

As he broke through, he saw that the wooden trunk was now gone but her smell remained. Creed followed the drag marks down the narrow path from his property to the country road and found the soaked Ms. Rose shivering while sitting on her trunk, waiting for someone to pass by and hitch a ride. She didn't hear him approach from behind.

"Creed." Came his quiet grunt. She jumped and spun around. Now there was terror in her green eyes. "It's just Creed."

"You scared me." Ms. Rose replied in a tiny voice, still staring at him warily.

"Yeah, I do that."

Neither moved.

"I can fix y'up a place t'sleep tonight." He motioned behind him with his head, his wet hair flicking droplets along the way. Her hesitation caused him to frown again and he was beginning to feel like a fool.

"I hurt my ankle." She began to bite her lips again, her fear fading into worry.

Nodding, he approached her cautiously, unsure of how to pick her up and carry the trunk at the same time. His temper sparked again, this time at himself for being so delicate, he grabbed her gruffly around the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder while she cried out. He ignored her protests and grabbed the rope handle of the box and dragged it behind him back to the cabin.

When it was apparent that Creed wasn't listening to her, Ms. Rose was resigned to holding the back of her dress down in some sort of propriety, while she bounced against his back. She tried not to look at his backside. Finally she was able to see the front steps to the house from around his flank.

"Can you please leave my trunk out here? It's soaked and covered in mud." She asked, her voice muffled slightly from behind him.

"By yer reasonin', I should leave you out here too." Creed dropped the trunk and kicked it in to the side snug beside the steps and he lifted her up over his shoulder and placed her on the porch as she favoured her right ankle. She looked at him pleadingly. "Just teasin'." He tried to laugh but it came out as a dusty cough. He pointed inside the cabin and held her upper bicep as she limped through the door.

There was a stool just inside the door so she sat while Creed began to pull off his shift. Ms. Rose looked down into her lap, trying not to stand out. "You should change too, wet clothes chafe." He grunted over his shoulder and dropping the shirt with a splat on the floor. When he caught her staring into her lap and blushing bright red, he snorted and moved into the small back room that served to hold fire wood and offer only the slightest bit of privacy in the one room cabin. "You hear me?" He did up the fly of the dry pants and reemerged out from the back room.

"All of my clothes are soaked in my case." She was nibbling her bottom lip again, a nervous habit.

Creed looked around a bit then reached up to the makeshift second floor of the room, which was mainly only a space between the rafters and the roof where he could store his tools and furs. He pulled out a thin off-white shirt that looked as though it may have fit him when he was in his early teens. He walked the handful of paces over to the stool and shoved it towards her.

Ms. Rose took it gingerly but saw little choice. "May I have some privacy?" She asked softly. Creed nodded and went to sit out on his porch while listening to the ruffle of fabric from inside. She was certainly taking her sweet time. Finally, she alerted him that she had finished changing. Creed went back inside and found her sitting on the floor in front of the fire, with an angry red ankle and her arms wrapped around her as far as they would go. She was beginning to cry quietly again.

It took him a moment to realize why. She was very bare underneath his old shirt and her figure was all too visible with the low light of the fire. He could see the dark patch between her legs even though she was squeezing her thighs as tight as they would go. He didn't think it was possible, but he felt ashamed in that instant. He went to the bed and pulled loose a threadbare wool blanket from beneath the bear fur cover and offered it to her with his claws as he turned away. She sniffed and gently took it from him with a thank you.

ooooooo

The sun had set but it was still too early for bed. He left Ms. Rose in charge of stoking the fire while he rummaged around for food in his storage area. She was doing a poor job of it so he handed her the two apples he found and pulled the poker out of her grasp.

They had been quiet all evening save for a few one-word sentences. Satisfied with the fire, Creed grabbed the bigger of the two apples from her and took a bite. It was mealy. Ms. Rose, taking a cue from him, took a small bite of her own. They watched the fire, avoiding each other. After finishing half of her apple, she offered it back to him. Creed looked at it and then to her face. She was smiling kindly, motioning for him to take it. He made two mouthfuls of it before it was gone.

"You probably wanna go t'bed." He grunted, picking his teeth with a claw. Ms. Rose continued her selective vision and didn't seem to notice his monstrous attributes.

"I can sleep here by the fire tonight."

"S'fine." He hoisted up his large frame and headed toward his own bed in the back corner a few feet from the rug in front of the fire where he was just sitting. As an after thought, he reached back up to the rafters and pulled out a second bear fur and tossed it at her feet.

The bed creaked as he crawled in and nested under the blankets with his back turned to her. She shifted her position and wrapped the blankets around her body before letting the crackling fire lull her to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sabretooth belongs to Marvel, all others are of my own creation.**

Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.

It was nearing the break of dawn, everything was still and asleep in the woods surrounding the property. Creed was wide awake and standing over the girl sleeping on his floor next to a dead fire. Despite being soaked in the rain the night before and being wrapped in sheets that reeked of himself, he could still make out her delicate smell.

He didn't know what to do with her.

Moving away, he opened the door to the cabin quietly and walked to the end of the porch, where he unzipped and relieved himself over the side. The rain had stopped but the grounds were still puddles and mud. It would be a messy day for traveling but he had work to do.

He was mauling over the decision to trust her alone in his cabin for the next few days or whether to throw her out that morning until he found she had moved from the spot on the floor and into his bed, curled up into a little ball soaking up the warmth he had left behind. She couldn't have been more than twenty.

"I gotta go away fer a few days." He said to her.

"It's too early." She replied, half asleep.

Frowning, he shook her shoulder to wake her up but she only curled tighter into her ball defensively. When Creed stopped, she unfurled and rolled over on to her side to face him. He could see her nipples clearly through his old shirt and didn't bother hiding the fact that he was looking.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I took your bed." She pushed her hair out of her face, then noticing his attention was elsewhere, she pulled the furs up to her neck. "Were you looking at me?"

"Yes." Creed was still standing over the bed with his perpetual frown. Blood had rushed south and he realized he was salivating.

Ms. Rose stood up abruptly with the blankets providing a shield against him. She stepped as far back as the room would allow and stammered something about how she shouldn't have been in his bed.

"It's a bed." He grunted plainly as the man in him won out and he retreated, turning his back to her. When she didn't respond he repeated his earlier statement. "I gotta leave fer a few days, work." Creed moved to the fireplace and picked up an old cigar box and threw it onto the empty bed, the jingling of change announced the contents. "I want'cha t'go in to town and buy food. An' bring back a bottle of whiskey. Steal my money and run off, and I'll hunt ya down and break yer legs."

"Sounds fair." She replied quietly, happy that he had moved on to other subjects. He continued to stand there watching her without a change in expression. "Yes?" Ms. Rose asked him uncomfortably, unable to make eye contact.

"I want'cha t'be here when I get back."

"Alright…." She breathed, too scared to say much more. She stood still as Creed made his way around the cabin to get dressed. He ignored her as though she were not standing awkwardly in the corner. Reaching up into the rafters, he grabbed a back pack and dropped it on the kitchen table.

"You can use it to carry things back from town." He stuck a cigarette into his mouth and pulled a hat on. He stopped at the door while lighting the cigarette on a wooden match, took a puff then asked, "You got a name, Ms. Rose?"

"Emma." She replied weakly, waiting for him to depart so that she could sit down and make her hands stop shaking.

Creed nodded to himself and extinguished the match on his way out the door and down the path, no bag or pack with him, just the clothes on his back.

ooooooo

_What th' hell are ya doin'?_, he thought to himself. The road was a muddy mess but it was better than making his way through the fields with all the gopher holes. He had never had a woman in his home before and while he had never been attached to his things, he was still concerned that he was about to get hustled. There had been no indications that she was deceitful but trust was not something that came to him easily.

When he was younger and cockier, he tried his hand at living among people in town as he traveled from place to place, but he had been rolled too many times by prostitutes and ganged up on by drunkards sensing that he was different from them. By his mid-twenties he had filled out his form and his wild, unkempt appearance was intimidating enough that he was no longer jumped when he stopped into bars for a drink, however the experiences of his youth still marred his psyche and ten years back he had bought the cabin and land surrounding it. This was the first time since then that he had shared living quarters with something still breathing.

He thought back to her curled up in his bed and his dick hardened. He should have just taken her. She was in his house, in his _bed_ – she should be paying the rent on her back. Things in life don't come free.

ooooooo

Convinced that he was finally gone, Emma darted through the cabin until she found what she was looking for. A coil of rope was up in the rafters and if she stood on the kitchen chair and then up on to the mantel of the stone fire place, ignored how un-lady-like all this climbing without underwear on was, she could grab the end and pull it free.

She jumped down with a solid thud then wrapped the rope back up into a coil so she could transport it outside and try her hand at hanging a laundry line. Everything in her trunk was soaked through and smelled like wet wool. She would have to wash them out properly. Surprise, surprise, Creed had no soap or washboard in the cabin. The laundry would have to be done out in the stream behind the cabin with a bar of soap she found in the kitchen basin.

She was still in awe that in a time of indoor plumbing, he was living with an outhouse and water pump.

He appeared strange and lonely and she wondered if that was why he always seemed cranky to her. His manners were lacking to be sure but she attributed that to living in the woods away from people.

This morning had been scary though. No man in their right mind would have…but she was living in the middle of no where now… was she in danger staying here?

Washing the clothes out in open water was a challenge, not only because she had never done anything like it, but also because the water was frigid in preparation for winter. Even if her dress was clean, it would be as stiff as a board as it dried on the line. Her hands were angry red, much like her ankle, when she was finished. She couldn't feel her fingers but she pressed on and hung her clothes on the line.

It must have been about noon when she finished and her stomach growled to reminder her she had not eaten breakfast.

She tromped back into the cabin and kicked off the pair of Creed's old boots that she had been using as her own shoes were on the porch drying. Instead of eating, she curled up into the bed again and shivered under the covers. The house was so drafty, she would have to make him a pair of socks as fast as she could so she could leave and find a place with insulation to stay.

Emma thought back again to that morning, his green eyes looked positively wild as he looked down at her in the bed. She had known terror at that moment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sabretooth belongs to Marvel, all others are of my own creation.**

Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.

Armed with her hat and rucksack, Emma stepped foot back into town. She had held out three days eating apples and raspberries and the side of fish Creed had left, but the house was bare of food and it was now inevitable that she would have to go into town herself and carry everything back. The streets were busy with people running their late afternoon errands much like her. Her first stop was into the General Store where Nick Twill tipped his hat to her and said good day. She smiled and waved back and found the few items she was looking for with ease.

As she left the shop to make her way to the grocer's she began to notice people were watching her. A group of young women made their way past her and pushed her off the sidewalk into the street, giggling as she stumbled helplessly.

Emma frowned and adjusted the backpack, adamant about pressing on. The grocery store was busy and yet it seemed every time she walked down an aisle, the women sharing the aisle would turn the corner. She was being shunned. How did all of these people know her?

The flour was by far her heaviest item and she placed it in the bottom of her bag so it wouldn't crush everything else under it, however it made her load unbalanced and attracted even more ridicule as she left the store and made her final stop in to the bar at the far end of the street to pick up Creed's whisky. The men generally ignored her, thankfully, and the bartender was happy to oblige as long as she had the cash.

It was getting very dark out and she cursed her stupidity in deciding to trek out so late. It was going to take her twice as long to walk back to the cabin as it had to walk to town.

As she grumbled to herself, she heard a cat-call chase her down the street. Emma was only too happy to be leaving. As she made her first few steps down the trail, a man only slightly older than her pulled up beside her in a cart. He called down to her and offered her a ride.

"It's too dark for you to be walking through the woods alone, miss. Will you let me drop you off at home?" He smiled bashfully and offered her his hand. Emma smiled back with a blush and accepted him.

He asked her all the polite questions until they began approaching Creed's cabin. She pointed out her stop and the buggy was halted. The horse shook its head almost in a warning. It was uncomfortable standing there in the dark, a predator was near.

The boy helped her down and pulled down the heavy rucksack, dropping it on the road. No one was around. As she began to thank him for his help, a smile formed on his face she didn't like.

"I didn't drive you all the way here out of the kindness of my own heart, miss. I'd like payment."

Uncertain, Emma slowly reached into the pocket of her dress to find some change but he grabbed her wrist and forced himself into her, pinned her body against the cart and smashing his lips on hers. Emma squealed beneath him and tried to push him off.

The horse reared up in fright and took off down the trail as the man was ripped off of her and pitched into a nest of trees farther away. It was too dark to see what was going on except for two reflective orbs catching slivers of moonlight in the darkness. Not being able to see anything only made the sounds she heard worse. The man was trying to scream but it was only coming out as gurgling. She heard something thick snap in two, a tree, or worse, bone. And then there was dead silence.

She could see a large figure walking towards her but it stopped to pick up her rucksack, she didn't dare speak.

"You hurt?" It was Creed.

Emma wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and scrambled to her feet. She reached out toward him and clung around his middle, sobbing into his shirt. After a moment of awkwardness, he adjusted the pack on his shoulder then scooped her up into his arms. She pressed her face into his neck and held on tightly as he walked back through the path to the cabin in silence.

The cabin was dark and cold with no fire lit for their return. He put her down on his bed and slipped the backpack off his shoulder on to the kitchen table then went to start a fire.

Emma wiped her face with her hands then adjusted her dress. Getting up, she went to the pack and dug out his whiskey. She walked over to the fire and handed it to him. "Thank you."

He took the bottle but didn't respond.

Taking his cue, she unpacked the rest of the bag at her own pace in silence. The bottle cracked open and he took a drink, making a face as it burned down his throat. Emma fished out the change from her dress and put it back into the cigar box on top of the mantel. With the fire light, she could see he was covered in mud, or something resembling mud.

"What?" He couldn't take her staring anymore.

"Can I make you a bath or something?" With a glare, Creed took another long drink then left the cabin through the back door. Emma heard splashing, then a dunk, and then some sputtering and cursing. He reappeared holding a pile of his clothes and dripping from the waters at the back of the property. He threw the clothing on the floor at the foot of his bed and stood there. They stared at each other, Emma's eyes slowly floating south. "Oh."

Finally coming to her senses, she walked over to the bed and pulled out the same blanket he had given her on the first night and approached him, wrapping it around his shoulders, which she could only reach on her tip-toes. Despite the intimacy, she tried her hardest to touch him as little as possible.

"Alright then, I think we've both seen each other naked now and we've only known each other for a whole day put together. That's a good start." She chewed her lower lip.

"I've been thinkin' about you fer the last three days." His voice had taken on a husky quality and his eyelids lowered, sizing her up. Emma stepped back, and then back again, and then she backed all the way into the wall away from him.

Her eyes welled up and she quietly choked out, "Please, don't."

"This is _my_ house, little rabbit." A cruel smile was creeping across his lips and the blanket fell from his shoulders.

"I'll leave, I'll leave right now." She tried to dart around him but he only had to reach out and snatch her wrist and pull her back to face him.

"You'll stay HERE! You're MINE!"

The bed was not as comfortable when she was thrown onto it. Emma yelped as she landed on her shoulder and pain shot out. Creed rolled her over onto her back, sitting over her square on her hips, wrestling with her arms.

"Please don't! PLEASE! DON'T!" Her wailing was hurting his ears. She was scared and in pain and sobbing uncontrollably and he froze.

Emma took a breath in and realized he was stock still. He still had a death grip on her but wasn't moving. His eyes didn't look like they were in focus and after a minute, he released her, stood up, and then ran from the cabin into the night.

She sniffled and choked, trying to regain some sense of control of herself. When she felt like she had recovered, she picked up the damp blanket from the floor, wrapped it around herself, and ran out into the night as well.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sabretooth belongs to Marvel, all others are of my own creation.**

Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.

She was running, but because of the cloud covered night, somewhere she had gotten off the trail and was probably running through a field. There was a great howl behind her somewhere and it didn't sound like a wolf. Emma slid through a great patch of mud and fell face first into the ground. Her sore ankle was aggravated and she could only limp after that.

Her heart was pounding and she was having a hard time catching her breath. Ladies don't run. She would pay for being so proper.

She heard a snarl to the left of the field and she hoped it was much farther away than it sounded.

Finally, she saw lights. They were still a great distance away, but there was hope. Emma made her way out of the field and found the compact road again. It took half an hour but she finally reached the outskirts of town. The streets were deserted save for near the bar, so that's where she went first.

One would think that a young lady standing crying and looking like she had been through a horrible ordeal would have men fall all over themselves to try and help, but she was ignored or told off for getting mud on their sleeves.

"Please! He's going to kill me!" Emma sobbed before someone finally grabbed the collar of her dress and physically tossed her back out on to the street.

"Maybe you're getting what you deserve." Said an anonymous voice and a crowd in the bar let out a peel of laughter.

The night was too cold and yet there was no snow on the ground. Emma limped slowly, making her way through the town and on to whatever lay after it. Just more woods. If she kept moving, he wouldn't be able to find her.

She had managed to walk into the middle of the brush for another hour before having to give in to the pain, cold, and exhaustion, and she slumped next to a tree and then down to her knees. She was too cold to cry anymore.

ooooooo

She awoke to snow covered fallen leaves. She herself was covered in soft, fat snowflakes that were silently floating down from the sky. The sun was high but it was hiding behind clouds. Emma looked around her, fear setting in as she realized she had no idea where she was. All avenues looked the same.

Choosing to move and warm up, she picked her sorry, mud-soaked self up and began gingerly walking from tree to tree in a direction that was picked randomly.

After almost a mile, she heard water running and soon came across a brook. Relieved, Emma collapsed and took a drink. The water was too cold to convince her to wash herself off but she did attempt to wipe her face down with a clean hem of her dress.

Deciding to walk along the water until she found another human being, she lifted herself up once more and walked like a zombie until she needed a rest. It was during one of these rests when she heard shots fire out from deep within the woods. She was close to someone, but they had guns and her cold reception in town made her doubt that she had found help in the hunters.

There was no choice, she would keep walking along her path and if she ran into them, then so be it. Maybe they would be friendly.

The sun had lowered in the sky and it was getting harder to see, but she was sure she heard something resembling an animal moan not too far off. Emma stood still and looked around her, her eyes as wide as they could go to take in everything around her. Finally, she saw something perhaps 100 metres away. A beast caught in a bear trap, maybe? Why hadn't the hunters taken their prey?

Squinting, she realized that it was very pale for a bear, or any such animal. Approaching slowly and against her good sense, she finally was able to make out Creed, still naked from the night before, laying among the dead leaves of fall. His right leg looked torn down to the bone from a rusted bear trap, his hands cut up from assumedly trying to remove the trap, and three red blossoms of blood from bullet holes along his back.

He moaned again, half conscious.

Emma inched around him, out of his reach, until she came about to his face. She swallowed, then knelt down in front of him. His green eyes floated up to hers and he blinked. He was unconscious again and she was lost.

She began to sob once more, she had not run so far away from him as she had thought, but she was so lost in the forest and was most likely going to die soon. Emma sniffled and tossed her dirty blanket over top of Creed, then she crawled underneath him in some grotesque version of lover's spooning. His body heat would keep her warm tonight, and if he was dead in the morning, she could keep walking until she found help.

oooooooo

She was being carried, it felt like she was floating through the trees. Her eyes opened and she looked up to see birch and fog and dead leaves. This was not a dream, her mind told her and Emma curled up to find Creed carrying her. He was still covered in dry blood, but he seemed uninjured. He didn't even limp from the trap that had gnawed his leg to the bone the night before.

Creed didn't acknowledge her as he continued to walk with purpose. The cabin came into view and she realized they were just on the other side of the river.

"You awake?" He grunted at her.

"Please don't hurt me." She shivered as the cold air amplified from the water.

"Not gonna hurt you. I owe ya that much." Creed hoisted her up high on his chest and he started to walk through the waters, thankfully it didn't reach much higher than his stomach and Emma was left quite dry.

"How are you alive?" She mumbled into the blanket that he had wrapped around her before the walk home. Creed didn't respond as he lifted them out of the water and continued on to the cabin.

The remnants of two nights ago was still evident. He put her down next to the kitchen table, perhaps not wanting to scare her by putting her down on the bed, and he reached up on his toes to grab a large metal tub and hoist it down in front of the fire place. He gave her a bucket and ordered her to pump it full of water and come back while he lit the fire.

Her ankle made things slow and the bucket was heavy. She was halfway back to the cabin when he emerged and helped her carry it back. Neither of them seemed to take notice that he was still naked. They filled one of two big pots sitting on the fire with the water and then Creed went back for more. Emma put down one of the furs and lugged the tub on it, then placed the second fur over the top.

The water was slow to come to a boil so she began tightening up the shutters and plugging any draft she could find. Creed handled all the water transfers since it was too heavy for her. By afternoon, the bath was ready.

Creed shifted the bear fur and lowered himself down into the tub while Emma stood in the kitchen, finishing up the bread dough to let it sit and rise. She noticed how unsuccessful he was at washing the blood off of his back and after a moment of hesitation, she softy kneeled at the end of the tub and took the washcloth from him. With a growl he let it go and let her scrub his back.

They both continued not to speak until he was finished his bath. Something resembling more of a towel was pulled down again from the rafters and he wrapped it around his torso then approached the fire, lifting the first of two big pots full of boiling water, and dumping it into the tub.

"I'm not waitin' outside fer you this time, so if y'want a bath, it's gonna be now." He went to sit on the floor and tend the fire, the towel unraveling and slipping down his backside. It was apparent that this was about as much privacy as she would get.

Emma undressed and kicked her clothes aside into a pile for laundry the next day and tried to get into the tub. Her sore ankle protested when she tried to transfer her weight until she had to come over to the other side of the bathtub and use his shoulder for support. She slipped in and covered the top up with the fur while she began to wash away the mud.

"Where'd you go?" Creed asked, his question resonating within the metal surrounding her.

"I'm trying to wash my hair." She popped up from inside the deep tub to peer at him over the side. A grunt was her response.

When the bath was finished, Creed gave her the towel and began lifting the tub to dump the water. His strength was amazing. Noticing that she was standing there watching him made him snarl.

"You're like a cat." She said simply. "Or a tiger. Very pretty to look at, but dangerous."

"Is that a poem or somethin'?" He propped the tub up against the wall outside to dry and came back in, shutting the door and locking it with the wooden deadbolt.

Emma blushed. She found her nightdress in her trunk and quickly pulled it over her head. She found his clean pair of pants and offered them to him, which he pulled on. The brown fabric was straining against his muscles, but only because they were too small.

Moving back into the kitchen, she put the dough on to a flat metal pan and positioned it over the fire without it burning. Creed watched her from the bed quietly.

They sat in silence together in front of the fire as she worked on his sock, nearly done the first one. "See if this fits, please." She handed him a sock missing its toe, the double pointed needles dangling from it. Creed obliged grumpily and found it to be comfortable. Emma moved up and made a few measurements, not noticing that he was smelling her hair. She took the sock back and went to check on the bread.

"It'll be winter soon."

Emma made a noise to indicate that she was listening, however she was working on his sock again.

"You should stay here." This gave her pause.

"You tried to take me very recently. How can I trust that won't happen again?"

The little girl had some teeth. "I'm hopin' next time you'll say 'yes'." He smiled nastily into the fire.

"Are _you_ going to put a ring on my finger?" She dropped her hands into her lap and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Ya don't need no ring t'spread yer legs, rabbit."

"Stop calling me that." She was riled up and her scent flooded his senses.

"Bread's burnin'."

Emma went to save the bread, irritated that their conversation had ended too briefly. "I don't care what sort of ladies you sleep with, I'm not one of them. I'm saving my virtue for my husband, and hopefully whoever he is will deserve it." She spat over her shoulder while Creed sat back.

"Well what about just yer mouth then?"

The snap of her backhand against his cheek was sharp, but it didn't seem to affect him as much as the shock of her strike did.

"I am not your _whore_!"

"But you _would_ be, if I was your husband." It wasn't a question.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sabretooth belongs to Marvel, all others are of my own creation.**

Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.

The night on the floor had been cold and she didn't get any sleep, wanting to keep one eye open. By the time daylight broke outside, she was nearly resigned to the fact that she had no escape and that he would rape her and her virtue would be lost. No one would want her.

Creed stirred in bed, his nose sniffing the air like a dog. Emma shivered again against the nearly dead fire. "Get th' kettle goin'." He muttered to the ceiling. She obliged by hauling the full pot to the fire and waited for him to make his way out of bed to get blaze going again.

They ignored each other for the first few minutes, sleep still reigning over them. Emma tugged up her stockings and readjusted the fur around her.

Creed had his tea and leftover bread at the kitchen table, ignoring her the whole time, until it he had to do yard work. He pulled on his boots and laced them up tightly, then pulled on a sweater over his shirt and buttoned up his coat. Emma found him a cap from inside her own trunk and handed it to him as a peace offering from the night before, which he took without a word.

Emma heard him chopping wood diligently as she dressed for the day and began opening the windows. Only three of them had glass so light was rather sparse, but she could use the kitchen window to see him just fine.

She was having a hard time figuring him out. She liked his strong a silent side like now, but was disgusted at his cruel streak. Turning to put on her own heavy wool socks and boots, Emma dressed up in a heavy coat and shawl then made her way out to refill the kettle for later.

At the water pump, she was having no luck. It was finished for the season. She trudged to the river instead and was frightened when she turned back to find Creed standing at her back with a frown and the axe resting by his side. He lifted his other hand and offered her a flower that was frosted over, its beauty captured by the instant ice.

The moment Emma had accepted it, he turned around again and stormed off back to chop wood.

Puzzled, she wandered back into the yard to watch him work. Breath was steaming up in clouds around him as he ignored her.

"I don't know you." She said openly.

"Nobody knows me." He grunted as the axe came down.

"I want a husband."

"Okay." Another swing of the axe.

"One that loves me."

Finally he stopped and propped his elbow up on the handle, leaning into it. "Listen little rabbit, I'll keep you safe if you keep me happy. That's the bargain."

"Is that a marriage proposal?" Her nose wrinkled.

"I guess so. Course, I think I get the better end o' the deal." He was back to chopping wood again.

"What about love?" Her response was a snort. She looked down at the flower.

ooooooo

She continued to be quietly ignored, which made for better sleep, but during the day she felt uneasy. Creed was currently hunting while she stayed at home and cleaned the last of the root vegetables for the stew that evening. She did not expect him to come home with an elk corpse, however.

He made her come outside and see it as he strung the animal up on this contraption built up on the side of the house she had never noticed before. Creed was absolutely beaming and in his element.

"This is the first time I've seen you happy." She commented while holding the flank of meat he had cut off for dinner.

"This'll feed us fer a week." He kept patting the dead animal and looking it over.

"I'm going to go in and add this to the stew then. Thank you." Emma turned on her heel, feeling out of place between the man and his kill, and did just as she said.

It wasn't until it was ready that she saw him again. He had cleaned himself up in the basin in the kitchen then reached into his pocket as she put two bowls down at their places beside the fresh bread. He flicked something round and wooded onto the table and it came to a rolling stop by knocking into her bowl. It was a ring carved out of wood.

"Needed somthin' t'do while waiting." His face was aflame as he sat down at the table.

"This is sort of affectionate." Emma gave it a look without committing to his proposal. He didn't respond. She put it down on the table between then and started to eat.

"You ain't gonna try it on?"

"Mr. Creed, it's lovely, but it won't fit me." She replied. To explain she took his clawed hand and held hers up against it so he could see the vast difference between their finger sizes. He had tried to carve it out small, but he had no idea how small it really needed to be.

She got up hesitantly and approached him in his chair. He didn't move but his eyes glared at her and her proximity to him. Emma couldn't pin point his age but he was definitely older than her seventeen years. She reached out, her hand trembling slightly, and put her palm against his cheek, softly turning his head up to her. He was obliging but grinding his teeth.

Bending slightly at the hip, she kissed him. Her lips gently pushing against his, her eyelashes batting against his cheek, they were both virginal when it came to this small intimacy.

Creed mouth opened slightly and she mimicked his motion, her eyes closed. His tongue snaked in and explored shallowly. Her mewling told him she enjoyed it so he entered deeper, finding her tongue wanting to explore his mouth.

Somewhere in that moment, he had pulled her into his lap and was holding her hip and using his other hand to travel up her back and into her black hair, down around her shoulders today.

As the kiss broke they became aware that the other was aroused. Creed's breathing was heavy in her ear as he held on to her.

_This was your doing Emma._ She admonished herself, afraid to speak about marriage again in such a state.

"Will we get married tomorrow?" She asked into his shirt, his chest rising and falling deeply as he twirled her hair between his fingers. His erection straining under his pants and pushing into the crevice between her legs and it felt too good to stop now.

"Yes, whatever you want." He replied, muffled from nuzzling her neck through her hair.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" Creed picked her as she sat and strode to the bed, pulling off his shirt and ripping at his pants, unable to contain himself much longer after hearing what he interpreted as 'go'.

"Not a soul." He flipped her over on to her stomach and ripped open her dress, all the way down the back. She was so naked and new in front of him. Before she could change her mind, he flipped her again and dove down, snaking his tongue that had just been inside her mouth between her legs. She squealed and then softened, drawing a low moan from within her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sabretooth belongs to Marvel, all others are of my own creation.**

Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.

Spring had finally arrived. It had been a harsh winter and most of their time had been spent inside the cabin in each other's company. At first it wasn't as bad. After the impromptu wedding, they had stayed in bed most of the day, but by the end of the season, they had both become rather sick of looking at the other. Creed had given her a sound slap last night after she had started in with a tongue thrashing. Emma was still in bed sulking as Creed sat on the edge of the porch smoking a cigarette in the morning sun.

The door opened slowly and Emma, wrapped in a blanket and wearing her night dress, slipped out and made the trip to the water pump with the empty kettle in hand, her bare feet catching all the morning dew.

She headed back to where he was sitting and rested the kettle by his side. She was still pouting standing in front of him.

"Don't make that face at me." He grunted.

"You promised we'd go into town today." She leaned into him and started stroking his bare chest and playing with his hair that had grown out down past his collar bone.

"I don't remember that." Taking another drag, he shot the smoke up in the air, out of her way.

"You weren't in a position to say no when I asked." Emma smiled into his chest remembering last night before their fight. Creed gave a sigh and flicked the butt into the air away from the porch.

"Get inside." He shoved her away.

Hurt, Emma picked up the kettle again and slowly made her way into the cabin, confused why he always seemed to keep her at a distance. She put it on the fire to boil and began changing for the day. Finally she tied her apron back and poked her head back out into the porch.

"I'm going into town today, if you would like to join me, you're welcome." Before he could respond, she went back inside and put two tea bags into mugs and poured the hot water over them.

"You ain't goin' anywhere without my say so. You belong to me." His deep voice resonated through the cabin as he stood in the doorway.

"Fine, but I have no food left in the cupboards to feed you tonight." Emma raised her chin defiantly. His little rabbit had grown a set of claws herself over the winter, figuratively speaking, and didn't mind using them, even when it got her a slap in return.

Creed appraised his wife. She had changed much in the last several months without him ever really noticing. Her smell had blossomed into something more intricate, the smell of womanhood maybe? They had discovered one night when both chairs of the kitchen set were broken, that she was like him. Slowly her flesh had knit itself back together across her back from his claws dragging deep into her flesh, but not deep enough to do fatal damage. Neither had spoken about that night since, however Creed felt he had found kin in her and held her much more protectively than he ever thought possible of him.

"You really know how t' piss me off."

"I finished your new socks." Emma handed him another pair as he sat on the bed and pulled out his boots. She had had very little to do over the winter other than cook and let him have his way with her, so she had continued to knit him socks until all of her yarn was depleted.

Creed grumbled a thank you and put them on. Emma found her way into his lap like a cat seeking attention and sat facing him. She didn't like it when he was angry with her which worked in his favour as her attempts to make amends usually ended with her bent over the table and her skirts pulled up around her hips.

Today he didn't feel like it though. He held her close and they sat embracing each other as the tea steeped.

oooooooo

Emma was in one of the new shops trying on dresses while he sat on a bench outside the store smoking another cigarette. People were staring at him, some in secret, and others in outright awe.

"Problem?" He growled loudly at a group of passing women who were whispering about his claws, his unkempt appearance, his harlot wife. They all gave small shrieks and ran off in a gaggle like geese.

"Scaring people?" Emma came out with an arm load of fabric. She didn't expect a response and handed him back the change from the new clothes. Creed let her pile them into his rucksack before they moved down the street to the grocer. "I bought you new pants and a shirt."

He grunted in response. She had learned to get used to him and his non-answers.

"Do you want to get a hair cut?" Emma tugged at his ponytail playfully to which he swatted at her. "I can cut your hair at home."

"You come at me with a pair o' scissors and I'll punch you into next week." She had practiced letting his comments roll off her back, but today her mood dampened and he could tell. "Fine, you can cut my hair."

"I like taking care of you." Emma smiled and squeezed his arm.

"I like it when you shut the hell up." He replied grumpily, but her smile didn't waiver.

He collapsed again on a bench outside the store and waited while Emma purchased food. His monthly trips into town had turned into weekly trips now that more food and varying foods needed to be kept at home. Part of his promise had been to keep her safe, and up until then he had kept his word.

There had been a few weeks during the winter where he had to leave her alone in the cabin for work. He still hadn't told her what he did to bring home money, but the little trinkets he began collecting on his travels seemed to appease her enough to stop asking. He had been gone a whole two weeks and had returned during one of the worst winter storms he had seen. He had had to dig the front door out of a snow drift and found Emma shivering in the bed, a low flame flickering in the fire place and no wood to be found.

She had been inconsolable for nearly half an hour, crying about bears attacking the cabin. No matter how much he had assured her that bears hibernate during the winter, she was adamant that a bear had come and tried to get into the cabin the week before and she hadn't been able to sleep since.

"It wasn't a bear." He grumbled losing interest in the argument.

"It had claws! He tried to knock down the door!" Emma shouted angrily.

Creed swung open the door and let a blast of snow and ice into the cabin, extinguishing the fire once and for all. He found claw marks around the doorframe, all in sets of three. He couldn't make out the extent of it due to the snow covering most of the cabin, but he noticed a column supporting the roof had been slashed in two.

"Victor Creed! Shut the door!"

He obliged irritably and gave a closer look at the claw marks. His nose told him nothing, they were too old and exposed to the snow to give him anything. These were not animal marks he was familiar with. A freezing shot of wind reminded him of the cold inside the house. Creed trudged through the thigh deep snow around back to find the pile of firewood he had left out. It would be wet, but it was better than nothing.

Creed shouted for Emma to open the back door which she did after some shuffling. He unloaded two armfuls of firewood then kicked off his boots, done with the cold for that day.

Emma appeared during his memory and waited for him to take notice of her and her groceries. They added it to the bag and set off back towards home until she put a hand on his forearm.

"I want to go into the bookstore." She had begun to teach him to read during the long winter, and it was a frustrating process, but she managed to bring his pride into things and it made him press on. Emma had some kind of patience with him. Currently she was reading to him at night but was almost finished with the book.

Creed dug into his pocket and produced a coin for her, to which she took and skipped off, like the seventeen-year-old girl she was. He only hoped she wouldn't come back with something girlie.

While waiting on the sidewalk, he began to take notice of the men watching him, talking.

"How does a guy like that get a woman like her?"

"Lucky asshole, I guess."

When Emma came rushing out again with two books wrapped in brown paper and beaming at him, he couldn't help but respond in kind with a genuine smile of his own. He reciprocated her hug and kissed the top of her head. _This could really be my life_, Creed thought to himself as they walked back to the road with her on his arm. Something inside him bubbled possessively and they weren't a mile out from town when he pulled her into the cover of the bush and had his way with her, marking his territory all over her, inside of her. Emma didn't complain. Something in her scent told him she loved it as much as he did.


End file.
